


24 - It's Just Bad Timing

by distantstarlight



Series: 31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 [24]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 31 Days of Porn Challenge 2017, Coitus Interruptus, Day 24, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, John is a Flirt, John isn't a tease ;), M/M, Orgasm Delay, Sherlock needs to orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 14:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has a lot of pent up sexual frustration these days. He needs relief!





	24 - It's Just Bad Timing

**Author's Note:**

> Day 24 of the 31 Days of Porn Challenge as issued by AtlinMerrick!
> 
> I sneak wrote this at work because I have no time.

Sherlock stood there and felt both ridiculous as well as frustrated. The toy was mounted onto a device that kept it at the correct angle and height. Reluctantly, he poked a testing finger inside. It was warm but far from internal body temperature. Theoretically, it was a male bum, accessible anus included. The texture was unnaturally smooth and the orifice was faintly _anus shaped_ but the testicles were poorly proportioned. The anatomical inaccuracies weren’t enough to stop him. Sherlock Holmes was desperate. He needed sex.

Living with John again was absolute hell. They’d gone right back to being best friends which was wonderful and awful at the same time. Sherlock was happy that things had sorted out for John, and that his daughter was happy and thriving, and that their flat was a happy home. He was miserable because John was there seven days a week being a dad and best friend, so comfortable that he sometimes came to the kitchen in just his vest and pants to grab a bottle for his child or get her a soft snack since she was already trying solid foods. Sherlock had taken so long to heal that he’d completely missed his window to confess to John the depth of his feelings for him.

 _The bum was wrong_. Sherlock decided that it didn’t matter. The toy was there to serve a purpose and not to be a replacement, as if anything could. It had been decades since he’d had sex with someone, his curious teen libido had faded as soon as he discovered the chemistry lab at school. Sherlock barely recalled what it was like to have someone else’s hand on him, and he hadn’t even gotten around to having anal sex with anyone. He’d touched and been touched and that was the whole of it.

The whole of it.

Sometimes the childish bit of John’s immature sense of humour that had attached itself to Sherlock’s psyche was annoying because now he was giggling to himself because he had his finger in the _hole_ and he’d just thought of the word _whole_.

Laughter passed but his erection did not. That was the problem. Sherlock had lost the ability to think his erections away. He needed to masturbate frequently to get over how sexy frumpy John turned out to be. _Who knew that unshaven and rumpled doctors could give you a stiffy so quickly that you were in danger of passing out from blood loss in the cranium?_ The first time Sherlock had seen a dishevelled John stumbling around he nearly had to run to his bedroom to toss off as quietly as he could.

Sherlock had done his research so he knew how to use and maintain it. He had a condom on. He was lubricated adequately. There was nothing in his way now. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock stepped forward, placed the tip of his cock at the hole and pushed.

It was so good.

Sherlock was impressed. It probably didn’t feel like an actual arse but it was far superior to the hand that he’d become far too acquainted with. Closing his eyes, Sherlock thrust. It didn’t take long to build up the appropriate pace and movements. Indeed, it wouldn’t take much longer, a handful of minutes at most.

“Sherlock,” John was knocking on his bedroom door and jiggling Sherlock’s locked door, “Lestrade called. He’s got a case he swears is at least an eight, maybe a nine but we have to go right now.”

“Fine.” Sherlock hoped he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt as he extracted himself. He was furious. He had been well on his way but news of a case had done what a cold shower had not. Sherlock’s erection was becoming soft and limp, the condom clinging sadly to the much-reduced organ, “I’m just dressing.”

“Hurry up, I’ve called a cab already. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Sherlock went into high speed, taking a mere thirty seconds to dress fully, and then another precious three minutes to clean his barely used toy before setting it discretely back into his room to dry while he was gone. He wanted it ready for when he got back. He needed to fuck something, soon.

The case was indeed an eight and for a long time, Sherlock was happy again. Rosie was dispatched to Mummy and Papa for advanced spoiling and general fussing over while Sherlock and John ran through London chasing a serial killer. Sherlock didn’t think about his penis or John’s pants at all, not for ages, then, on the day they solved the case, John had to physically fight their suspect. He was vicious and fast, mocking and cocky. Sherlock felt the now familiar stirring in his loins, stepping into the fray deliberately and enraging John when the suspect punched him in the shoulder so hard that Sherlock wondered if it was dislocated.

John rendered the man unconscious with a single blow immediately after. Lestrade found them not long after, Sherlock seated shirtless on the ground atop his great coat while John palpated his arm and shoulder carefully, assessing the damage. The doctor nodded to the still unconscious man, “You can have that one and I’m taking this one home. Now.”

Sherlock noted that no one ever argued with John. It didn’t help his arousal any though the pain in his shoulder was doing a good job. He just wanted to go home, use his toy, and sleep. “Drive us home, Lestrade.”

Since they’d just saved NSY many weeks of concerted effort, the DI complied, silently driving them back to Baker Street while John fussed over Sherlock. When they got home, John gave Sherlock pain relievers, a hot cup of tea, and ordered him to have a hot shower and to sleep. “Yes, John.”

Sherlock showered. It helped relieve the pain in his shoulder but he was still sore. Getting his robe on slowly, Sherlock went to his bedroom. John had considerately turned down his duvet for him and had left a steaming cup of tea beside his bed along with a stack of biscuits. Sherlock stopped moving, both touched and horrified.

His toy was right there, drying out. It was sitting on the nightstand closest to the far wall, unmistakably a male arse that had a tube inserted into the anus so that it too would dry out properly. _John could not have missed seeing that!_ Sherlock rushed into his room and stared at it, “That’s quite…something.”

Sherlock whirled around. John was leaning against his doorframe, looking at Sherlock and then, the toy. “John…you weren’t meant to see that.” Sherlock rarely felt embarrassed but he did right then. Flamboyant, as he could be, when it came to personal matters he was intensely private.

John just walked in, “Does it do the trick?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“I…I haven’t tried it yet, not really.” Sherlock was blushing. _There was no reason to blush! John Watson was a fully grown man with a more than healthy sexual appetite. Sex toys wouldn_ _’_ _t be a social shock for him_.

“Oh?” John bent down to peer at it, not touching it. “Right. _Case_.” He stood up and nodded sharply before walking toward the door, “Let me know if you want to do research comparative values.”

To Sherlock’s utter surprise John winked at him in a rather naughty way before departing. Just like that, he was hard again. Not hesitating for a moment, he gave chase, “John.”

John turned around, his face a picture of utter innocence, “Yes?” He pointedly ignored the erection that was creating a substantial tent from Sherlock’s robe, “Can I help you?”

Sherlock stood there for a moment, “The… _values_. I’d like to do that. Now. If you have time.”

“Well, I am your _ass_ istant,” John was being uncharacteristically flirtatious. Sherlock didn’t know how to react. Sherlock swallowed hard as John walked right up to him in a way he never had before. It was…sultry. “For science, right, Sherlock?”

Sherlock found himself unable to articulate so he just nodded, swallowed again, and let John follow him back to his bedroom. John wasted no time pushing Sherlock up against the door, “John?”

“I’m not playing around, Sherlock. This is something we’ve both wanted, isn’t it?” Sherlock nodded. _Yes, he wanted this. He wanted John Watson between his legs just like this, grinding their hips together just like this_. “Good, glad that’s cleared up. I like your toy but we can play with that later. Right now, I want to get you onto that bed, find your lube, and then test each other’s endurance. Okay?”

Sherlock nearly came. Shivering a bit, he nodded, “I…yes…that’s acceptable, John. Endurance. Good.” Sherlock was kissed. It was definitely John kissing him and not them kissing each other because Sherlock’s mind snapped all the way off and he just stood there while John Watson snogged the hell out of him. When he finally came to his senses a bit, Sherlock moved his mouth a tiny bit, then a tiny bit more, and soon he was engaging John point for point until they were both panting and groping each other.

John picked Sherlock up with a small grunt and tossed him onto the bed. Shedding his clothes as he stepped closer, John looked Sherlock up and down, “Strip.” Sherlock nodded once more and feverishly tried to paw his way out of his things. His hands didn’t seem to work correctly at the moment but he got himself bare before John got to the bed.

There was more kissing, this time accompanied by a lot of naked flesh sliding against a lot of other naked flesh. “Need you, John. Please.”

“Yes, please, now.” John sounded as desperate as Sherlock did. Sherlock whimpered as John used his container of lubricant to paint his own fingers. “I want you in me, Sherlock. Whatever you were going to do to that toy, you do to me, alright?”

Sherlock groaned and nearly came again as his mind produced endless images of how he could take John. “I promise.” Yes, he did. He’d spend the rest of his natural existence fucking John Watson, and that still wouldn’t be enough time to do all the things he wanted to do to the soldier.

Sherlock got John on his knees after they spent a good bit of time touching and caressing each other. Sherlock was anxious to learn how to pleasure John. Gingerly, he kissed his way over John’s nicely presented backside before pulling John’s cheeks open and just looking. John’s anus was sweet looking, pink, clearly untouched, and all his. Sherlock drooled.

He lost himself in a delightful haze of pure indulgence as he used his mouth on John. He didn’t focus on any one spot, lavishing attention on John’s buttocks, anus, perineum, and his bollocks. He was astonished right now, almost in shock with disbelief that not only was he actually in bed naked with John but that John had clearly invited him to have sex. Sherlock was hazy with arousal and desire. John was delectable in every possible way he could perceive. John’s body was even more enticing that he’d expected. He was so lost in his explorations that he almost didn’t hear John, “Sherlock, _stop_. Sherlock, _knocking_. Someone’s at the door. _Sherlock!”_

Sherlock snarled loudly, “Not. Now!” It was too late. John pulled away and was clearly able to walk and dress at the same time because by the time he got to the bedroom door he had his pants and trousers on, and was tugging his shirt closed. Sherlock knelt there panting and feeling incredibly angry as well as frustrated. “This better be some kind of incredible emergency. It’s not even dawn yet!”

It was Lestrade again, “He escaped. He attacked the emergency service workers that were bringing him to the hospital. We need to catch him, now.” There was no arguing with that so reluctantly, Sherlock left the flat with John and Lestrade to resume the case he had thought was closed.

It took three more days. Whenever they had a moment, John and Sherlock kissed and fondled one another. It was wonderful and aggravating. On three separate occasions, the doctor got his clever hands directly onto Sherlock’s now aching cock but every single time Sherlock got close, someone returned, or they were called away. John received more than his share of less than innocent touches and twice had nearly been caught by Lestrade as he ground his erection against Sherlock’s very willing arse. Days of constant arousal were almost painful. John slept off and on wherever he had a chance, and once, he made Sherlock sleep on Lestrade’s office sofa for four hours before making him eat a small meal. Much refreshed, Sherlock was able to solve the case and get themselves back to Baker Street. He was frustrated and testy, and ready to explode.

John stopped by Mrs Hudson’s and explained that they would be unavailable to anyone at all for at least two days, “We’ve been on the move for a week straight. I need to sleep and Sherlock’s going to have a psychotic episode if he doesn’t unwind a bit.”

“Oh dear, well, I’m going to my sister’s then. He does get shouty when he’s in a mood.” Mrs Hudson handed over a tray of confections she had made. “Go rest, John, I’ve put some fresh milk upstairs for you, and a loaf of bread to go with the cold-cuts you have.”

Sherlock listened at the top of the stairs before stomping noisily away. He was so agitated right then. He didn’t want to wait one more second so before John even got back to their rooms, Sherlock stripped himself bare and went to take a hot shower. His prick was thick and hot, and though his erection had waned during the case, it took no time at all before it returned. “Fuck it.” Cursing to himself, Sherlock took himself in hand and began to stroke.

It felt so good. _Finally!_ He needed release so desperately. Groaning, Sherlock braced one hand on the shower stall and stroked himself fast. The water made for terrible lubrication but he didn’t care. He needed to get off. Sherlock’s thighs were trembling. “You didn’t wait?” John’s voice was laced with surprise and no small amount of hurt.

Guiltily, Sherlock looked over his shoulder. He felt terrible. John hadn’t been denying him, it was just circumstances. He should have been able to wait two more minutes for the man he desired beyond all others, “John.”

His face clearly showed his chagrin because John’s became instantly forgiving, “It’s okay, Sherlock. You’ve not good at patience and it been a trial, hasn’t it?”

“I need you right now, John. I can’t wait anymore. I’m going insane. I need a release. Please, give it to me”

“Good thing I’ve got a bit of a surprise waiting.” John pulled Sherlock out of the shower after he washed them both quickly. The doctor pushed Sherlock ahead of him, “Get on the bed Sherlock, on your back.”

John leant down and kissed Sherlock hard, “How badly do you want me to fuck you right now?”

“I’d do anything, anything at all John. Please, I need something, anything. Touch me.” Instead of doing so, John turned his back to Sherlock and presented his arse.

Sherlock sat right up. “Is that an anal plug?”

“Yeah, remember two days ago I had to run to see that leather craft place for the tool you were asking after?” Sherlock nodded, unable to speak. “I had a quick word with the proprietor. She directed me to her friend’s shop down the street. He recommended this. I’ve had it in for the entire afternoon.”

Sherlock’s eyes were wide. “You mean…”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”  John didn’t waste any time. He reached behind himself and tugged at the small rubber disk and Sherlock’s mouth dropped open when he witnessed the substantially larger toy that was produced. “Lay back, love.”

Sherlock fell back, incapable of using his muscles anymore. His prick stood straight up like a flagpole and it embarrassed him for a moment to be so mindlessly turned on. _He needed an orgasm this bloody minute._

John straddled Sherlock’s hips and shifted himself forward. He was hard too, and while at any other time, Sherlock would explore and learn John as well as he could, he was too anxious now to wait. John reached behind himself and stroked lube onto Sherlock’s cock. He had to pause for a minute to shift backwards in order to get the condom on, and then forward one more time before he was able to line up Sherlock’s cock. “I need you now, love.” John sat back slowly.

Sherlock went rigid. It was a struggle to not thrust hard and fast. He strained to control himself until John was ready. When the doctor finally began to move, breath exploded from Sherlock’s mouth as the glorious friction began. “Please John, harder.”

“Huge fucking cock,” muttered John. He didn’t seem to be complaining, “Never had something like that up me before.”

John had confessed to other male lovers, a fact that drove Sherlock mad with jealousy but on the other hand, John was riding him rather expertly now. It was almost humiliating but well before John could get close to coming, Sherlock grabbed his hips, and thrust a handful of times as deeply as he could, “John!” Sherlock’s eyes crossed, “Now, oh fuck, I’m…now, John!” His mouth fell open, his back arched, his toes curled and his fingers gripped John so hard he was afraid he’d drawn blood. It felt like the end of his cock was overheating as come surged out of him, filling his condom to the point he was abstractly concerned about ruptures. There were weird animal noises coming from his mouth. He felt something splash onto his belly, something hot and a bit runny but he was too lost in the shocks of absolute pleasure that were tearing him to pieces. His cock was still firmly lodged inside John’s behind which seemed to be squeezing him rather enthusiastically.

A long time passed. John sat on him, panting but otherwise unmoving. After the world began to move again, Sherlock managed one word. “John?”

John took a while to answer, “I really needed that.” He sounded gruff and well sated. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so bloody horny.”

Sherlock was still laying there almost insensate with satisfaction. He slurred a bit as he spoke, “Days. Weeks. Months even. I tried to…I don’t know, something.”

“Stay just friends?” John asked wryly. Sherlock nodded. “I thought so. This is better.” He managed to flop off of Sherlock, rudely allowing Sherlock’s not quite flaccid penis to escape. “I don’t want to be just friends, Sherlock. You love me, don’t lie, I love you, now you know. I need to sleep.” John closed his eyes and apparently lost consciousness immediately.

Sherlock was much clearer in his thinking now that his stress had been relieved so he took a few minutes to fetch warm damp flannels to wipe John down. He cleaned himself up too, putting the lube away, and disposing of the condom. When he was done, he stood there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot as he looked at his sleeping lover. Deciding John was right and that he too didn’t just want to be friends, Sherlock crawled back into bed beside the sandy-haired man. He needed to sleep. They could talk more about their new direction in the morning. Relieved, at last, Sherlock slept.


End file.
